


It's a Beautiful Day for a Concussion

by ewya_barnes1114



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewya_barnes1114/pseuds/ewya_barnes1114
Summary: Imagine Benedict fretting over you when you’re hurt on set during a stunt





	It's a Beautiful Day for a Concussion

“Cut!” The director yelled.

You grasped your hands behind your neck, tossing your head back in frustration. That was the 13th take and it was starting to get tedious.

Staring up at the ceiling, you heard a “Look out!” echo across the set. Letting your hands drop from your neck, you looked in time to see a wire on the rigging snap, the corner of it headed right for you.

There was no time to react so you did the only thing you could think of to try to soften the hit. You put your hands up as the rigging swung your way, hitting hard enough to knock you off your feet, slamming you into the wall. A searing pain gripped your skull that was soon dulled as you fell into unconsciousness.

When you came to, everyone was standing around you, the director calling your name, his words garbled as he tried to get you to focus. As the haze cleared, you were able to focus on him.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel like I was in a fight with the Incredible Hulk.” You said, letting out a chuckle. 

“Normally when you’re hit with rigging equipment, you don’t walk away unscathed.” The director said with a chuckle. 

You felt a warm sticky liquid trickling down the side of your head, reaching shaking fingers up to touch it. Bringing your hand down, you saw blood on your fingers, blinking rapidly before letting your arm fall heavily beside you.

“Oh, great. How long was I out?”

“About 5 minutes.”

You sighed, wincing at the screaming pain in your head, swallowing thickly. “I thought I would, at least, soften the hit by putting my hands out in front of me but I guess not.”

“It did work to an extent. You slowed down the momentum but as a result, the top corner swung out and hit you.” The operator said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt filming like this.”

“Nonsense. I’m just glad it wasn’t any worse. Those rigs can cause serious damage. Can you stand?” The director asked, motioning to the two men beside him to help you.

“I think so.” Bending your knees, you pushed your back into the wall, using its comforting security to slide upwards. The two men grabbed under your arms lightly to help you stand up the rest of the way. You held your head with one hand, grabbing the shoulder of the man to the right of you with a wince as you tried to steady yourself. You looked to your hands when you felt you wouldn’t fall over to see a large cut on the left palm from where you’d tried to block the metal rigging. Trying to close your hand with difficulty, you shook it to try to dull the pain.

“I’ve called a doctor and he will meet you at your trailer.”

“Thank you.”

“Rick, walk back with her to her trailer, please.”

Rick confirmed and followed behind you in case you fell. As you passed by your co-stars, some patted you on the back while others clicked their tongues with their hands over their mouths. The doctor . You told Rick where your key was so he could unlock the door for you.

“Thank you, Rick.”

“No problem. You take care of your head.”

The doctor thanked Rick and motioned for you to go ahead of him. You did so and sat gently on your couch, your eyes closed against the pain. You heard the snap of gloves then the doctor asking you to recount what happened as he came over to the side of you to examine the wound. 

“Well, apparently, the rigging had a bone to pick with me and decided fisty cuffs were in order” You say on a laugh. 

The doctor smiled softly, a ghost of a giggle escaping his lips.

“Oh, come on. That was funny. If I can get hit in the head and laugh, so can you.” You joked with him. “It all happened so fast. I saw a wire snap on a piece of rigging and knew my options were limited so I did the only thing I could think of to do less damage. I put my hands up to try to minimize the damage and, alternatively, caused the top corner of the rig to swing out and hit me in the head.” You turned your palm around on your leg to show him the cut.

“Despite your injuries, putting your hands out probably saved you from more extensive injuries. I would wager to guess that you have a mild concussion by the looks of it. Did you lose consciousness?”

“Yes. I was told for 5 minutes.”

“Are you having trouble with your vision, focusing, feeling alert?”

“Other than feeling like the Hulk body slammed my head, I feel okay.”

You inhaled a sharp breath as he pushed your hair out of the way to see how deep the cut was.

“I’m sorry. The blood has dried so your hair is sticking to it.” He was quiet for a few more seconds before he spoke again. “Not deep enough for stitches, though.” 

He reached into his bag to grab some gauze and disinfectant.You braced yourself for the sting while he held your hand to apply it and were not disappointed. It felt like your hand was on fire. Fisting your free hand, you breathed in sharply, humming out your disapproval at the pain. The doctor gave you a apologetic smile as he watched you stomp your foot 

“I know. This part sucks. Almost done.” He said.

Within seconds, the pain started to subside. Your eyes fluttered open, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. As the doctor started to bandage up your injured hand, a biting pain caught your attention. Uncurling the free hand you had balled up, you saw deep nail marks in the palm. You set your hand back down, looking out the window of your trailer waiting for the doctor to finish.

“All set.” He said.

You looked back to the doctor who let out a heavy sigh.

“Now for the hard part.”

You looked from him to the bottle of disinfectant and back to him.

“Oh, hell no. I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m already here…”

“I’d rather not put my fist through your face. My hand was bad enough.”

He stood back from you, and shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a card.

“Here’s my card. If anything changes with your vision, you have confusion, are in and out of consciousness, have a headache that just doesn’t seem to go away or you don’t feel right, give me a call. I’ve taken the liberty of scripting a note to your director that you are to be involved in light activity for the next 4-6 weeks. No jumping around, no rough and sudden movements. Take it easy. I’ll leave you with some extra gauze too and tape also.”

You took his card, and offered your hand. “Thank you, Dr. Pratt.”

“You’re welcome and try to avoid getting into any more fisty cuffs with rigging equipment.”

You share a laugh and say, “I’ll do my best. No promises.” 

“Take care, now.”

“You too.” 

You sunk into your couch at Dr. Pratt had left, the adrenaline from the incident wearing off. All you wanted to do was sleep but you knew if you didn’t get the blood off now, it would be hell later on. Touching the side of your face, you found that it was already almost completely dry and you dreaded the thought of a shower and how much it would hurt. Deciding instead to just use antibacterial soap to get the majority of the blood off, you begrudgingly got up from the couch and got to work.

15 minutes later you heard the door of your trailer shake with knocks in rapid succession, followed by the trailer physically moving from the force the door was opened with. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” 

You heard Benedict’s voice call out. His voice scared you at the level of panic you heard in it. Coming around the corner from your bathroom, your name died on his lips.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire, chief?”

A large breath fell out of his mouth as his eyes were focused on the blood still present on the side of your head, like he’d been frozen solid. Suddenly, he walked quickly towards you, cupping his hands gently under your chin, clicking his tongue. He stared at your head while he spoke, stumbling over his words.

“I…I heard you’d been hurt by the rigging and that you were bleeding from the head. Are you okay?”

Panic was still thick in his voice so you tried to calm him down.

“Dr. Pratt came and took a look. He said it was more than likely a mild concussion and he’s instructed both me and the director that I only be involved in light activity for the next 4-6 weeks.”

He was silent for a few moments, his body rigid.

“Ben?” 

He still didn’t answer.

“Ben. I’m okay.”

He sucked in a breath, seeming to come back to sorts and locked his eyes on you.

“I was so worried…I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, his head buried in your neck. You hesitantly brought your hands up around his back, patting him gently. You scoffed lightly at his words.

“I think I need to call Dr. Pratt.”

His head instantly came up, eyes wide.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He said quickly.

“I think I’m hallucinating.”

His brows furrowed, concern and confusion crossing his features.

“You’re hugging me and telling me you wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to me. Is this is a dream, it’s cruel.”

He searched your eyes. “How do you mean?”

You couldn’t help the tears building up in your eyes. “I’ve dreamt of this moment so many times and now that I hit my head, I don’t even know if this is real.”

Ben cupped the sides of your neck, thumbs brushing away your tears. “Y/N, are you conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Are you standing?”

“Yes.”

“Can you hear the birds outside?”

You listened for a moment and could in fact hear them.

“Yes.”

“Then I am here.” He punctuated every word, finishing with a wide smile. He saw your eyes dart wildly back and forth, still a certain degree of non-belief in them. You watched him as he moved in closer and closer to you, your eyes still darting back and forth. His lips touched yours in a gentle kiss that blew any uncertainty out of the water

It was a calm, light kiss and lasted a few seconds before he pulled away.

“Do you believe me now?”

You opened your eyes slowly to look at him, not saying anything. He flashed that brilliant smile at you in understanding so you didn’t have to say anything. He took the washcloth from your hand to help you clean your injury, looking from the washcloth to you when you tightened your grip. He looked to your bandaged hand and saw the bottle of disinfectant out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.” He said, softly and you let go.

You laid down on the couch, a fluffy pillow propped under head as you faced the back of the couch to give Ben access to sit down next to you so he could work. He worked in silence, listening intently for any signs you were in distress.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Y’N” He finally said. 

Gripping the cushions on the back of the couch, you sat up halfway, turning slowly to look at Ben who had his hand on your back for support. You smiled warmly at him, your heart fluttering when he returned one in kind.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers lacing with your uninjured hand, watching mesmerized as you flattened your palms together Bringing your eyes up to meet his brilliant soul-piercing eyes, you whispered, 

“Me too.”


End file.
